The Tale of the Eldest Prince
by HOAnubisTS
Summary: To most, he's a respected, noble vampire Prince who would give up his life for his clan. No one knows about his early beginnings and mistakes. The tale of the Prince, that has been left untold for centuries, is unraveling...
1. The Abduction

**I don't know why, but I always found Paris fascinating. He was so mysterious, and Darren never knew precisely who he was. And that is exactly why I decided to write a fanfic on him. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

The elderly prince sat at his throne, his eyes fixated at the floor, a miserable expression on his face. He was contemplating the hardest decision he had made in his eight-hundred years of living – whether to live for just another day, or whether to pass on right now, guaranteeing him a spot in Paradise.

_If only Anastasia was here, _he thought glumly. His thought startled him. He hadn't thought of the youthful Anastasia in years. He could see her emotionless face in his mind as if he was looking at a blurry picture.

Suddenly, his mind was reeling. Choppy scenes of him kneeling on the ground, coated with snow, with her in his arms reeled through his brain.

Yet another question stirred – how had this all begun? A flashback flared around the prince, and momentarily, he wasn't in the Hall anymore. He was in the royal palace, dozing off peacefully in his cot.

Strangely, Paris remembered his childhood clearly. In his human form, he was a weak, shy toddler, not to mention the young prince of the Kingdom of Switzerland. Whenever he stumbled through the street on his chubby legs, women would coo and compliment his appearance. Even though he was only about a year and a half, he understood what the women were saying, as he was unusually bright for his age. The Queen had been fond of Paris and dressed him up in exquisite gowns, showing him off to practically everyone, as if he was a designer puppy. Paris hated the attention, but as he respected his mother, he would abstain from throwing a tantrum.

One night, at the dinner table, the Queen and the King were discussing complaints filed by the people of the kingdom. They had written in about some kind of "creature of the night" barging into their households and drinking them dry. For the first time ever, he had seen distress on his father's usually untroubled face. For a few nights, Paris was haunted by the fear that the "nightwalkers" would barge into his room and kill him. He told his mother about his fears, and she quickly convinced him they were irrational. After all, they were royalty, with guards surrounding every corner of the castle.

Calmer now, Paris drifted to sleep. He thought of how safe he was compared to someone else. _The monsters can't eat me_. _I'm a Prince, they can't eat me!_

His optimistic thoughts didn't stop a vampire couple from creeping into the castle, avoiding all of the guards.

"Why did we have to hunt down royalty?" the male vampire complained gruffly. "There are thousands of regular humans in the village, whose homes are not surrounded by guards!"

The mischievous grin on the females face silenced him. "I want a challenge, Frank."

He huffed something crossly and examined the windows in the castle.

"There are six floors," he observed. "Pick a number."

Without hesitating, she blurted, "Four."

"Then I guess that's exactly where we're going." He climbed up the wall with ease, his partner trailing close behind.

"Unlock the latch silently, then grab the victim and go," she commanded. Nodding obediently, he unlatched the window and jumped into the room. Alarmed, the toddler in the room shot up and began wailing. The male stood there, perplexed, while the female tucked him under her arm and pressed a firm hand over the boy's mouth.

"Run!" she hissed. They heard footsteps of the guards on the stairs, but before the guards could set foot in the room, they were long gone.

They flitted to a dark street corner, seemingly deserted, and decided to rest there. Finally, she plopped their victim on the ground and got a proper look at him.

Frank's upper lip curled into a displeased snarl. "This is it? We risk our lives just to get adrenaline, and all we get is a bloody kid?" The female, who went by the name of Marion, shrugged as she felt a pang of disappointment in her chest.

"He'll do for tonight," she sighed, scanning the frightened child. He was trembling in terror, the poor boy.

"I told you we should have gone to the village," Frank scoffed. "Oh well. I need to drink. Let's finish him already."

Paris looked up at the woman, his stare pleading. He knew exactly what was happening, and he knew he wouldn't like it one bit. He wanted to enjoy life to the fullest, find friends, go to school… but all those things were hard to do when you were dead.

Marion caught his eyes. The intensity of emotion his glare had made her feel nauseous. She was a savage killer… and yet this damned baby made her feel so innocent.

"On the count of three," Frank announced, raising a sharp nail into the air. Paris winced at the sight – his fate had been determined, no way of altering it. Shutting his eyes closed tightly, he waited for everything to be over with. "Three… two…"

What happened next was a miracle, something that only Desmond Tiny could have done. A certain maternal instinct, and instinct that Marion never knew she had, lashed out, and she found herself clutching her partner's arm, trying to stop him desperately.

"What are you doing? Let go of my arm! Let go!" Frank yelled in outrage, trying to tear himself free. No such luck.

"He's too young to die!" she cried. The black-haired man with the forceful facial features turned back at her, shell shocked.

"We've killed sickly elders, handicaps, pregnant women, and numerous children," he scorned. "And why is this one so special?" He let out a powerful laugh. "Because he's royalty?" Her throat was clawed and her mouth as dry as a desert.

"He's too young to die," she repeated, weaker this time.

"So what do we do with him now?" he jeered. "Put him back in the castle and pretend nothing ever happened? Oooh, here's a better idea," he added sarcastically, "let's blood him!"

She knew that it was meant to be a joke, but something about the idea sounded appealing. As her eyes lit up, his laugh faltered as the realization of what he had just proposed to her dawned over him.

"I was joking!" he protested. "He's too young to be a vampire! He'll never survive, he'll never hunt… he'll die either way!"

Dropping to her knees, she begged, "Please, Frank, dear. I'll take care of him and teach him to hunt. I'll show him the ways of the vampires. I'll teach him how to drink blood and how to hide from the sun. Please. Just let me blood him."

"Let YOU blood him? Why would I let a _woman _do the blooding?" he spat. He crossed his arms stubbornly and looked down at her eyes. Normally dull and lifeless, they were glistening as bright as the sun at the moment. Sighing, he gave in reluctantly.

"But I need to do it do it." She nodded in response. Grasping the boy's wrist, he slit open his fingertips, causing blood to gush out. The child yelped in agony, hot tears falling down his face.

"Are you ready, little boy?" he inquired, cutting open his own fingertips. Paris was too petrified to speak or move. Frank, laughing darkly, brought down his hand until their fingertips made contact. Paris tried to squirm, but it was no use. The vampires were much stronger than he was. They could snap his neck and end his life in a second.

After thirty seconds of the traumatic torture, the vampire pulled away his fingers steadily and gave the boy a second glance.

"Aye, boy," he chortled. "You're now a vampire."

Paris didn't know what the foreign word meant. It rung in his ears continuously, until he decided he didn't like the word. He didn't like it at all. It sounded sinister and vile.

He screamed and screamed until he couldn't endure it any longer.

Next thing he knew, he was being swept off his feet and charging full speed in the direction of the dense forests. The dense forest which he, in his human form, did not dare set foot in….

**So… did you guys like it? Please tell me by reviewing. Constructive criticism is welcome! Until next time. **


	2. The Unusual

**I'M back guys! Thanks for your reviews! Now, onto the story….**

"Mar?" Paris called meekly, running his fingers through his nut-brown hair. It was well past midnight as he walked into the stuffy kitchen, where his mother was dicing the deer she had just killed.

"Yes, Paris?" she replied. Her eyes were still on the knife.

"Why am I not growing?" This question had been swiveling through his mind for the last eight years, and only now had he summoned up the courage to ask.

Every day, every day since he had moved into this house, he had been watching the girl next door. The first few years, she looked exactly like he had. Both were small, chubby, and constantly smiling, even when the most troubling thoughts were bothering them.

She came over every Sunday to play tag indoors. Paris was strictly forbidden to go outside by Marion. He wanted, desperately, to go out and pluck the grass, climb trees, and run around freely, but he obeyed his mother.

Marion kept him guarded. She never told him about he true ways of the vampires. She never told him about the harmful sunlight, as she found no purpose to telling him. The blinds were always closed in the household, so why bother?

Then, when Paris turned 6, he noticed something about the girl. She was… changing. Her facial features had become more serious and she didn't smile quite as often. Before, they were about the same height, but now his eyes were at the same level as her hips.

Marion noticed the suspicion twinkling in Paris's eyes. She needed to get rid of that girl, fast. On a usual Sunday, the girl came over and knocked on their door.

"I'm sorry, Katie, but Paris is very ill… it might be fatal," she lied through gritted teeth. A single tear beaded down the young girl's cheek.

"I can never see him again?" Katie inquired, her voice quivering with fear.

"I'm afraid not." Katie nodded sharply and ran to back home, wailing, into her mother's arms.

What Marion didn't know was Paris had heard the entire conversation. He stormed off into his room, cross with everyone in the world. His only friend in the world was no longer there for him.

But why had Marion lied to her? He wasn't ill… he was a vampire. The only way vampires were different from humans was that they drank blood, and THAT was hard enough for him to adapt to. Drinking blood nauseated him, and the only reason he did it was because he would die if he didn't.

Then it hit him. Marion was hiding things from him. He didn't know everything about vampires… but he needed to. She was shielding him from vital information, babying him.

_What does a true vampire do?_

Paris lay in bed every night, staring at the cracked ceiling. The question taunted him. It kept him awake until two AM, and the only reason he would fall asleep was because his eyelids refused to stay open. Yet even when he was sleeping, the question appeared in all of his dreams and nightmares.

This had been going on for over two years now. _If it happens just one more time, I'm going to go insane,_ Paris had thought to himself as he stared out the window, watching Katie playing with her baby brother on the front porch. _I'm ten years old… why do I still look the same? Why am I not changing like Katie is? Why can't I go outside?_

He was determined to ask, so he clenched his teeth together and raced into the kitchen before he could hesitate and change his mind.

"Why am I not growing? Why can't I go outside?" Marion stiffened.

"You don't need to know."

Paris walked closer to her and repeated calmly, "Why am I not growing? Why can't I go outside?"

She was now tentative and her fingers were trembling. "You're sick. You have an illness, which prevents you from-" He could see right through her. Those were lies. She could trick Katie with her tall tales, but not him.

"I'm not ill, Marion, and I know I am not. Tell me the truth, Marion."

Averting her eyes to avoid eye contact, she chose to ignore the boy. If she told him the truth, the possibility her dream of becoming a proper mother coming true was going to vanish into thin air. Even now, Paris didn't consider her his mother. She insisted on him calling her "Ma" or "Mother", but he refused to. When she told him that he had all this secret power inside of him, he would leave her for sure.

And that was why she kept the reality away from him. Simply to be a "proper family".

Excepts their "family" – members including Frank, Paris, and Marion – were not proper at all. _Dysfunctional_ was the word being thrown around town lately.

"It IS the truth, Paris," she snapped back at him. "And I demand you believe me."

"Why would I do that?" he replied. Marion stared back at him, widening her eyes.

"Because I'm your mother, that's why!" she cried. Her voice echoed all around the room, the fraud statement bouncing off the walls.

Paris shook his head steadily. "You're not my mother." He turned to leave. Frantically, Marion tried to grab him, but he shook off her hand and continued on. His pace was increasing step by step, and by the time he was at the gates of the house, he was running.

But it wasn't running. Paris looked down at his feet, to realize he was moving at an incredible pace. Tears blinding her eyes, Marion tried to move. To her horror, she realized that her legs wouldn't budge. In a state of frenzy now, she tried to crawl after him, but her arms buckled and she fell on the floor.

"Why can't I move?" she hissed.

"Because it's DESTINY." She flipped her head around to see where the eerie whisper had come from, but the house was deserted. She was utterly on her lonesome. All she could do now was wail for Frank, in hope that he would hear her and chase after Paris.

"Frank! Frank!" Her calls of distress became more distant as Paris flitted away. He was clumsily tripping over his own feet, falling to the ground countless times, but he was quick to get back up and start again. The experience was exhilarating – after more than half a decade of being cooped up in a small house, he finally felt liberated and free of his worries. He concentrated seldom on the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his steps.

"Hey, kid!" he heard someone yell. Fear surged through his body as he attempted to run faster.

"Kid!" The man's voice yelled again. _Oh Lord, who is he? _"Kid, I'm a vampire too!" That statement made Paris freeze in his spot. He dropped to the ground almost immediately.

"What're you doing, kid? Tripping like that all over the place…" he chuckled. As he looked up, he could see the man's face was covered in scars. "Haven't been trained much yet, huh?"

The child stayed silent. "Not much of a talker now, are you? That's a pity. What's your name?"

"Paris," he muttered.

"Nice to meetcha Paris." Laughing gruffly, he added, "My name's Harnon. Harnon Oan."

**Unexpected? Hm… maybe. :P Review, please! Bye, until next time!**


	3. The Murder

**Hey guys. I have an INTENSE headache while I'm writing this, so forgive me if I make a few mistakes. I'll try my hardest to make this the best I can make it!**

"You punch like an old female human," Harnon taunted, smirking at the boy. Paris hurls another punch at him, sweating profusely, but Harnon blocks it effortlessly.

"H-Harnon…." he panted, trying to catch his breath in between words. "I… I'm exhausted. I… can't. Can we please rest? Please?"

His lip curled into a sneer as he scanned the wheezing boy. "We've only been training for two hours. Pull yourself together, child."

_ Child._ Paris had every right to despise that word. He was already twenty-two of age – and he was certainly more mature than his mentor. Hell, he was old enough to drink and get married, yet he was trapped in the body of a frail four year old.

"I… I'm not a child," he protested. After a few heavy breaths, he added, "Please, Harnon. I'm exhausted. I need energy for tomorrow if I want to train again. It's already six in the morning… the sun's due any minute. Please."

His mentor finally agreed, heaving a sigh of reluctance.

_He's just a kid_, he scolded himself. _Go easy on him. _

At times, the scarred vampire was impatient with the boy. His small feet would interweave every now and then when he tried to flit, and his attacks couldn't hurt a fly. Yet whenever he wanted to rebuke the boy, just one look at his determined face would make him bite his tongue and swallow his words.

_He's just a kid. Go easy on him. He's just a kid. Go easy on him. _He chanted those words like a mantra in his mind everyday.

Gazing over at the sky, he could see a shade of orange starting to penetrate the jet black sky.

"The sun's coming out earlier," he muttered under his breath, slipping out of his coffin. "Summer's coming."

Paris heard Harnon's words. Summer. Trees. Birds chirping. Grass. Warm nights. He smiled at the thought of the cherished season.

Hopefully, he'd dream of himself splashing in the pond at midnight in June.

Except tonight, he slipped away into the ravine of nightmares.

"_You son of a bitch!" a girl was screaming frantically. Paris, flustered, caught a glimpse_

_of himself in the mirror. He was noticeably older. Finally, he looked at a grown man – he was at least a hundred years old. _

"_You… how dare you?" the girl cried again. Curling up into a fetal position, she fell to the floor as a sob racked her body. _

"_Are… are you talking to me?" Paris inquired. Why was this stranger calling him such dreadful things?_

"_No!" The girl got on her feet, her knees buckling, and stretched out her hand, pointing an accusing finger at someone else. "They were my parents! You sold them out! They were your friends! Bastard!"_

"_Wh… who are you talking to?" Instead of answering, her dark eyes glowered. _

"_Him." Slowly, Paris turned his head to the side, fearful of what he was going to see. _

_Standing there, a sadistic grin on his face, was a scarred man. His face was hidden by a thick mop of black hair. _

_As if on cue, the man threw himself back as the girl jumped on him, digging her fingernails into his face. _

_It was a split second. That split second, where Paris saw his face. Nothing about it seemed familiar – except for a thin scar on the bridge of his nose. _

_Thin scar on the bridge of his nose…._

He woke up with his heart hammering inside of his chest. His breaths were short and sharp.

"Paris. Get up." Breathing a sigh of relief, he propped himself up on his elbow. It was all just a horrible nightmare.

"Yes, Harnon." Obediently, he jumped out of his coffin and beamed at his mentor.

"What are you so happy about? Did you manage to NOT pee in your sleep tonight?" Harnon jeered, instantly bringing a scowl on the young boy's face.

"I'm not a child," he repeated, stubbornly stomping the ground.

"Well then, stop acting like one." With one motion, he scooped Paris into his burly arms. "We need to get a human. What's the last time you drank?"

"Five days," he replied sheepishly. He was supposed to hunt down a weak, sickly little newborn, but he didn't have the heart to finish her off.

His mentor tut-tuted and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "That just won't do, boy. If you want to be a vampire, you've got to be vicious."

"Sorry." His eyes shifted to the phosphorescent moon in the sky.

"No time for apologies. You wait here, I'll bring you the body and we'll split the blood." Paris nodded and watched the man flicker into the darkness. Suddenly, he was all on his lonesome. To pass time, he picked berries by the stream and popped them in his mouth. Then he lay on the ground, the aftertaste of the tart berries still on his tongue, counting the stars.

Five hours later, Harnon returned with a girl slung over his shoulder.

"Is that all?" Paris questioned, bemused. The large vampire could never be satisfied with a small girl that size.

"I've already killed her parents. This one's for you." The boy ran over to the corpse eagerly, salivating at the thought of fresh blood.

He dropped to his knees and scooped the girl up by her neck. Her long hair poured behind her, and in the dim moonlight, Paris could see some features of her face. Her eyes were still fearful and frightened.

_Blonde hair, blue eyes, looks an awful lot like Katie_, he observed to himself, putting his finger to her delicate flesh. Then, as the facts registered, he jerked back and dropped her, letting a shrill scream leave his lips.

**Well… did you like it? Did you NOT like it? Please, please, please review! Thank you for reading my update!**


	4. The Sorcerer

**Hey guys! I'm sorry I couldn't update earlier – I decided to be super lazy for my birthday. :P ENJOY!**

It was late at night. Paris could tell by the position of the moon – hovering high up in the sky, as radiant as ever. Trudging heavily by the cave he now called his home, he picked wild onion and popped them in his mouth without plucking off the roots. As he chewed, he heard footsteps crackle behind him.

He whirled around defensively, his fighter's instincts kicking in. His eyes widened. Behind him was a tree, and although its leaves were rustling, Paris dismissed the sound as a squirrel.

_Crack_. Undeniably, the attacker was in the tree. Gingerly, he bent down to pick up his mentor's knife, but before he could rise to his feet, someone had jumped on him.

He struggled and squirmed under the attacker's grip. No use. He had him pinned to the ground. He kicked his legs frantically, yelling for help.

Suddenly, the roared with laughter. Paris, startled, shifted to his feet, still shell shocked.

"Who are you?" he inquired firmly. The man chortled louder.

"It's me, you fool!" he wheezed in between sniggers. "You shoulda' seen yer face!"

"It wasn't funny!" Paris fumed. "I was scared!" He stomped his feet on the ground, throwing the dust up in his own face.

"That's the essence of a prank!" Harnon winked, stealing a wild onion from his unsuspecting hands. "Now quit throwin' such a girly strop, I brought a human."

Paris hadn't drunk in more than two weeks now, and he lusted for blood more than ever. That was one of the main reasons he couldn't throw Harnon off him. If had drank a few days earlier, he could probably beat the older vampire after a short struggle.

"She's beautiful, really," Harnon sighed. "'S a shame that all the humans are celebratin' some kind of festivity. She was the only one at home."

Under the moonlight, Paris could make out some of her features. Blonde hair. A thin mouth, curled up into a sneer. The bluest eyes he had ever seen.

_Katie_. Her resemblance was unmistakable. Paris, at the verge of fainting, managed to squeak out, "Is she dead?"

"No, I sedated her. She will be in a second, though." He grinned sinisterly as he fell to his knees and ran his fingers through her hair.

"But you can't." His mentor cocked his head and inspected the boy.

"What do you mean, I can't? I bloody well can!" There was a hint of outrage in his tone.

"She looks to much like…" His words stayed captive in his throat as he bit his lip. Harnon knew who the boy meant instantly, a pang of guilt slamming into his chest. Out of all the people he could have picked, he picked this one, the one that flooded back the memories! He watched the boy as he wiped his cheek dry with his sleeve.

After a moment of hesitation, he hissed, "Fine. We keep this one alive. Maybe she can join our ranks later." He managed a smile, but at the sight of the darkness in Paris's eyes wiped it away. "Hey, boy… I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

Paris shrugged his shoulders. "It's okay, you didn't mean to." He headed toward the forest, his steps slow and steady. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back by sunrise." Harnon wanted to stop him, grab him by the arms and apologize, but he just grunted in response as he laid the girl down on the cave floor.

If his mentor had seen him weeping like this, he would have told him to man up. But thankfully, Paris was all on his lonesome.

After the tears came numbness. He sat on the floor, listening to the occasional distant hoots of the owl.

Then he heard footsteps, coming closer and closer.

"Harnon, it's not funny," he wailed. The footsteps stopped for just a moment, but proceeded once again, cracking branches in their way.

"I'm not in the mood!" Closer and closer and closer. They were near now, less than five meters away from him. Paris's heart jumped, as his insides churned into a twisted knot.

"Harnon!" he yelled in outrage. "Go away!"

A silhouette of a plump man lurked in the darkness before his eyes. _It wasn't Harnon. _

"I'm stronger than you!" he warned warily, steadying himself.

The figure chuckled in response. "Silly Paris… you don't just go around threatening Desmond Tiny!"

"D-Desmond Tiny? Is that your name?" The figure walked closer to him, letting early sunrise illuminate his face. Paris noticed his fingers curling around the heart-shaped watch placed in his palm.

"Yes, child, that's my name," he said. "Paris, huh? No surname?" Paris shook his head weakly.

"How about Paris… Skyle?" Desmond suggested. Paris considered it, then nodded.

"I think I like that," he muttered weakly.

"Paris Skyle," he mused. "Tell me, child, how old are you? Fifty seven now?" Once again, he nodded, avoiding eye contact. "I came to tell you that you are very special. One day… one day, you'll have ultimate power over my people." Flustered, Paris opened his mouth to say something, but swallowed his words momentarily. _Desmond Tiny had merely disappeared!"_

He returned to their camp site in much higher spirits, a few hours before the sun made its first appearance.

"Hello," he trilled. "Did the girl wake up?"

"No," Harnon responded wearily. "Why are you so happy? What happened?"

"Desmond Tiny told me I was special." Only when he turned his head around did he notice that Harnon Oan, the man that seemed to be so undisturbed by everything, was shaking with fear!

**If you review…. I'll…. kiss you? O.o No… I'll HUG YOU! Please, please review and tell me how I did! Until next time, may the luck of the vampires be with you!**


	5. The Festivity

**Hey guys! I'm updating again! This chapter is dedicated to my anonymous reviewer grimmlover, because it's her birthday today! YAY!**

**In case you're wondering, YES there are coffins in the cave. WHAT? YOU'VE NEVER SEEN COFFINS IN A CAVE?**

"What in the name of…." Paris awoke from his slumber because of loud explosions and cheers coming from the village. Wearily, he rubbed his eyes open and scanned his surrounding. Majestic fireworks flew up to the sky, bloomed into flower-like shapes, then trickled into the sky, ceasing to exist.

A festivity! His eyes shimmered with delight. Harnon, muttering something about stupid humans with their stupid principles, rose out of his coffin.

"Damn humans," he muttered, as if he was a broken record. "Damn humans, damn humans, damn humans."

Paris gulped. He didn't think humans were all that bad – in his eyes, anyone who threw such feasts was a hero.

"So I take it I can't go?" he sighed sullenly. Harnon shot him a dubious glance.

"Don't tell me ya actually want to go there!" he roared. "You're almost sixty, boy! Pull yourself up together! We have training today, anyway."

Paris nodded glumly, ran his fingers through his messy hair and exited the cave. He cursed his mentor under his breath, and most importantly, himself, for agreeing to serve this killjoy.

Sensing his distress, Harnon hopped out of his coffin and reluctantly placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You really want to go, don't you?" Paris nodded feebly. "And why is that?" He shrugged his shoulders. "So, you really want to?" This ticked Paris off. Why was his master repeating himself? Wasn't it obvious he wanted to go? He left that question unanswered, much to the displeasure of Harnon.

"Fine. Go ahead." Paris stared at the vampire in disbelief.

"Are you serious? I can go?" he exclaimed. His mentor bobbed his haid. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, I have to watch the human girl that you insisted on keeping alive," he sneered. Normally, this was the type of remark that would make Paris frown, but his spirits were too high to be brought down.

He bid the burly man goodbye and sprinted down the hill, racing to the pretty flashing lights. He heard Harnon yell after him, "If you ever see Desmond Tiny, head straight back home!"

After he told him about his first encounter with the powerful Mr. Tiny, Harnon was in a state of utter shock. He could barely eat, for the matter. The human girl had awoken five times, and each time she did, she would pass out upon seeing her ghastly surroundings. Therefore Paris never really found out her name, or how old she was. All knew was Harnon seemed to be quite fond of her, always brushing stray locks out her eyes.

All of his worrying thoughts vanished when he stepped into the massive crowd. Everyone was whooping and cheering gleefully, singing old fold songs, sipping ale and wine from their mugs.

In the heat of it all, people were dancing in a circle to traditional music, played on the ukulele and the flute.

Overwhelmed with joy, he jumped straight into the festivities. Although the young vampire wasn't aware of it, the girls at the party took great notice of him and tittered about how adorable he was.

… but only one was brave enough to approach him.

"Hey there," she boomed, louder than she had intended to. Her cheeks flushed a scarlet red.

Paris chortled at her embarrassment. "Hello to you to. My name is Paris." After a moment of hesitation, he added, rather hastily, "Skyle."

"My name is Lisa," she replied, still blushing furiously. "Sails."

"Lisa Sails," he mused. "I like the sound of that." Only then had he noticed the group of girls behind her, boring their eyes into the pair and giggling.

"Your friends?" he asked, pointing to them. Her face flushed an even darker shade.

"Yes… don't mind them." She beckoned for them to go away, but they wouldn't budge.

"What is this festival for?" he inquired. Lisa cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows.

"You don't know?" she exclaimed.

"Should I?"

"Oh… well, I thought everyone knew…. this is the grand opening of the Cirque du Freak." Paris had no idea what the Cirque du Freak was, and told Lisa so. Her eyes widened and she gasped upon hearing this.

"You don't know what the Cirque du Freak is?" The way she said it made it sound like it was one of the most foul crime ever.

"I guess you'll just have to teach me then!" The other girls stared at them enviously. Despite being merely eight, they had conspired against Lisa, plotting her up to mortify herself in front of the boy.

"Well…. it's basically a freak show, and all these freaks come together and do magical things. There's Stewart Shapes, that can morph from fat to skinny and the other way round in a matter of seconds. There's Chainsaw, who's skin is so tough, it can't even be cut with a – you guessed it – chainsaw! Then there's Pop, Jop, and Lop, three midgets that do INCREDIBLE acrobatics, then there's…."

Paris listened to her, deeply captivated by her detailed descriptions. He thought HE was unique – being a vampire and moving as fast as lightning and all, but every single person she talked about was simply astounding.

"I HAVE to go there!" he whooped. "I have to, I have to!"

As Lisa opened her mouth to reply, a shrill, urgent scream cut her off…..

**Ugh, cliffhanger! :P**

**Also, if you are confused with the Sails thing, DON'T BE. It'll be explained later.**

**Note to Dead L E – BECAUSE YOU CRITISIZED MY STORY, I'M GOING TO GO OFF AND SOB NOW! :( I hope you're happy!**


	6. The Girl

**Hey Shanpires, Crepslovers, Vanchanauts, Leopards, Kurdakins, Gavnites and, god forbid, Desmonders! I'm updating again (you don't say….) … enjoy! **

** Byyy the way, according to Dead L E, I said Paris was 60 in the last chapter. That was a mistake. He's supposed to be the same age as he was in the chapter before that! Sorry guys, I'm not perfect! Forgive me? :P**

As they walked, Harnon told Paris what had happened in an urgent manner. The girl had tossed in her sleep, mumbling words under her breath, then woke up with a start, screaming. The villagers heard her and decided to investigate, but their curiosity died off as the grand opening of the Cirque du Freak neared. Still, the vampires couldn't risk staying at the cave they had called their home for so long. Paris even got teary-eyed as he looked back at the entrance from the hilltop.

They ventured in the thick woods for miles before Harnon let them sit down and rest for a brief moment. The girl was whimpering in Paris's arms, her face hidden in his shoulder. Now that she was closer, Paris could see she was about fourteen, and was undeniably beautiful. She refused to open her eyes, and stayed cradled in his surprisingly strong arms.

Harnon grunted. "We're settlin' here for tonight. There's a barn there, and I think it's abandoned."

In relief, Paris slumped himself on the ground, as the girl tightened her grasp around his neck.

Then, a miracle happened.

The girl _spoke._ She opened her mouth, pushed a strand of golden hair out of her eyes, and feebly asked, "Who are you?"

Paris was too stunned to answer at first, but regained his composure. "Paris Skyle."

"Why am I here?" she questioned plaintively. He grimaced, shot her a pitiful glance, then told her. About everything. About vampires, about their ways, customs, traditions… and lastly, why he begged Harnon to spare her.

As every new word was uttered, her facial expression changed. She went from confused, to angry, to sad, and finally, pitiful. She couldn't help but feel sympathetic toward Paris, and thankful toward Harnon.

"Oh," she muttered. "So… you two are vampires?"

He nodded in response. An awkward silence followed.

It was her that broke it. "What… what are you going to do with me? Kill me? Let me go?" There was a hint of hope strangled in between her words.

"I… I don't know," he said. "But I know one thing- we aren't going to hurt you. You have my word of honor."

This seemed to relax her a bit. She rewarded him with a smile – a smile that could brighten the most miserable person's day.

"My name is Natalie Vanessa Claire April Steinsburg von Hart Kleidan." She laughed when she saw his eyes bulge in shock. "But you can call me Nat."

They spent the rest of the night frolicking among the trees, chattering amongst themselves. It was Nat that did most of the talking, as Paris half-listened, plucking the grass out its roots. She had seemed perfect in the beginning, but he had just found her fatal flaw- she was extremely over-talkative. If she was quiet and scared earlier in the evening, she was a different person right now: giggling and twirling her hair around her finger absentmindedly.

"What do you do to pass time?" she inquired, truly curious.

"I don't know… hunt, make food, find edible wild plants," he shrugged. The idea was absurd to her.

"Wild plants? Not the stuff you grow in the gardens?" she mused. Paris chortled lightly, then got on his feet and beckoned for her to come after him. After a few steps, they encountered a bush, so conspicuous among the others it hit the eyes immediately.

"See that bush? It's a rose bush." Ripping off the delicate petals of the flower, he stuffed them in his mouth and chewed.

"And the petals – their edible?" He rolled his eyes at the stupid question.

"Well I'm still alive, amn't I?"

Heaving a sigh of reluctance, she plucked a single petal and nibbled on it.

And started gasping for air.

Froth bubbled out of her mouth, as Paris watched her, immobilized with horror. She fell on the floor with epileptic twitches.

"Harnon! HARNON! Harnon, come here!" Paris called desperately. But the only person that emerged out of the woods was a man, in a yellow coat and boots.

It was the man, that had introduced himself… as Desmond Tiny, when they had met a few weeks – or was it months? – back.

"To save her…" he whispered eerily. His tone sent shivers down the boy's back. "… you'll have to find Vampire Mountain."

** I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't that interesting… but it builds up to something VERY important! **

** REVIEW, PLEASE! It makes me want to update faster, and makes me want to chuck flower petals everywhere. **


	7. The Farewell

**Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this update!**

By the time Harnon arrived, Nat was but a pathetic, shriveled heap on the floor. Paris has lost the ability to speak, and simply stood there, too petrified to do anything.

After a long moment of silence, Harnon tried to get information out of the boy. "I overheard sumtin 'bout a mountain… Vampire Mountain." Paris kept his eyes on his companion as she panted, trying desperately to stay alive. "I have no idea where or what that is… do you?"

The young vampire glanced up momentarily. There was coldness and bitterness in his frigid blue eyes. This was not the time to talk about some stupid mountain – Nat was _dying_ for the sake of the gods!

Then he uttered something that filled the eyes of his mentor – the most emotionless man on earth, Paris thought – with tears. "I wish I never became a vampire. I'm killing innocent people now, I mean, look at Nat!" In a moment of complete outrage, he grabbed a rock and hurled it at a tree. "It's all your fault!" He jabbed an accusing finger in Harnon's chest. "All your fault! Why couldn't you just let me run wherever I wanted to? Why did you have to take me in as your assistant? Why didn't you let me die?" He then shrank into the ground, his head between his knobby knees.

Harnon took a minute to consider it, then rose to his feet. "You want me gone?" There was no answer. "Very well then. I suppose you're not a weakling… you'll manage. Make… make sure to drink blood every so often." He smiled weakly. "And if you ever…. ever…" Choking down his tears, he concluded his sentence in a feeble whisper. "…. need me, I'll be there." With that, his feet picked up a pace and he headed away, into the distance.

Numbness crawled through his body as Harnon disappeared over the hill. Sadness and misery, and maybe even regret, would kick in in about ten minutes, so Paris savored this moment of senselessness. He tried closing his eyes, but the darkness was filled with screams of agony, and all the people that held a special place in his heart being tortured, as Mr Tiny's hearty, yet evil laugh chimed through the air.

Paris rubbed his eyes open just as the sorrow began to set in. It had only been an hour since his mentor had left, but he was already feeling the effects of isolation.

Yet again he tried to fall asleep. The dreadful images were still vivid. Still, his exhaustion was so powerful he eventually succumbed into it.

PpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpP PpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpPpP

When he roused himself up, it was dawn. The sky was streaked in shades of pink and orange, like a painting touched by the hands of a true artist. Nat was huddled into a fetal position, and when Paris pressed his head against her chest*******, he realized her heart was still beating and she was breathing softly.

Soothed by the fact that she was still alive despite her appearance, he set out to find himself breakfast. As he picked roots and hunted small creatures, voices called his name. He had the impulse to turn back every time it happened, but he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

_I'm going insane_, he thought glumly. _Just what I need right now. An unstable mind._

He chewed on dandelions, cringing at the bitter taste of the mature leaves. Just his luck – there were no young ones in a five kilometer radius.

_I want to go to this so-called vampire mountain. _The idea had popped into his brain as stuffed the final flower into his mouth, so suddenly it shocked Paris. Yet in a hidden part of his mind - the adventurous part that would do anything for adrenaline - knew this is exactly what he wanted to do.

So, giddy with childish excitement, he slung the girl over his shoulder and headed to this unknown land. Entirely by instinct.

**Well… what do you think? Review please! I mean, look at that luscious new review button… you WANT to press it. **

***** I know what you're thinking. -_- No, not in that way.**


	8. The Nightmare

**Special thanks to Cat attack 411 for helping me get over my mild writer's block. This chapter's dedicated to you! :D E3**

**Oh… and by the way, the dream's kind of disturbing. Not to me – I barely find anything disturbing – but when my friend (who claims to be the bravest guy in the class XD) read it, he told me I need help and slowly backed away. **

**Well… enjoy this update!**

His instincts, which he trusted so much, led him astray.

It was night-time in the forest. The moon was bright in the sky, conspicuous amongst the dim stars.

Then there was Paris. He was sitting on the ground, under a grand pine tree. Yawning, he put Nat on the ground gently and pushed the stray strands of hair behind her ears.

"Good night, Nat," he whispered. She moaned in response and her eyelids fluttered slightly, then succumbed into exhaustion.

Paris glanced at her expressionless face, feeling yet another bout of misery rising over him. _What am I going to do? _He had left Harnon when his wounds were fresh, when he was still overridden with anger. He had never realized that without his mentor, he was vulnerable. The remote feeling of safety he had felt around Harnon had left.

As his thoughts drifted away he realized how tired he was. Ignoring the biting cold and the uncomfortable ground under him, he laid himself down on the ground, and almost immediately, fell asleep.

_The ground crumbled under him and the trees became more and more distant. _

_Water. He was in water. Startled, he splashed around in it and tried to float on the waves, but a force pulled him into its depths. For a moment, he was submerged in the icy ocean, before bobbing up to the top. Petrified, he tried to call for help. Useless. No one was around to hear him. He swallowed salt water and spluttered, revolted by the taste. _

_He heard the grumble of an approaching thunderstorm in the distance. The tides became bigger, and bigger, and bigger… until they swallowed him whole. _

"_Argh," he yelped as he propped himself up on his elbow. He had a sharp headache, and his leg throbbed with pain. His vision was blurry – so blurry, in fact, the only thing he could make out was the silhouette of a plump man, approaching him._

_In defence, he bolted up and hissed. The man simply chuckled. "Now now, Paris. I'm not here to hurt you." Still chuckling, he retrieved a heart-shaped watch from his front pocket. If Paris's mind wasn't foggy, he would've recognized him. _

"_Who are you?" he asked. The man smirked in a sinister way and sat down next to him, the heart shaped watch still cradled in his hands. _

"_You know me, Paris," he said. "You know me very well." Paris opened his mouth to question him further, but the man had disappeared. _

_The ground fell under his feet again. With a thud, the boy, who was scared out of his wits, landed into another liquid. His eyes failed to see – whatever the liquid was, it was disintegrating his flesh and organs. _

_Slowly, very slowly, the skin on his legs sizzled off. Screams of agony belonging to children, woman and men rang in the room, vibrating off the walls. A grave realization had began to settle in – he was not alone. _

_With his hands, slick with blood, he felt around blindly until someone else's decaying skin came in contact with his. A faint light flickered on. The man coughed blood on Paris's face. _

"_Nice to meet you again," he breathed hoarsely, "Paris." _

_Something about his voice left an unpleasant knot in the pit of the young vampire's stomach. He knew who he was, he knew, he knew, he knew…_

Jolting up, his forehead beaded in sweat, he panted heavily until he managed to soothe himself. He drank water, tried to fend off the dream, then drank again. He was still exhausted, but didn't dare to go to sleep. If he did, the nightmare would surely return. Worst of all, he would find out who the man was. Gulping down fear, he rose to his feet and held onto a tree to keep his balance.

To distract himself, he set out to go out deeper into the forest's arms - for a walk. He considered taking Nat, but soon decided against it. He'd be back soon enough anyway. So he strolled for hours, until the sun gradually made its reappearance in the sky.

Halfway through, a rope obscuring his way made him trip and fall. The next few seconds went by like a flash.

A heavy object fell on his head. Birds flew out of trees, alarmed. He lost control of his muscles, and fell to the ground in convulsions.

Eventually he lay on his side, stone still, motionless.

The nightmares began again.

**Please review guys. You really make my day when you do. Review in Arabic. Review in Hindi. Review in Japanese. Review in Swedish. Review in Portuguese. It's okay, I have Google Translate.**


	9. The Witch

**I was watching the Flame Towers being all pretty out of my window last night – and they inspired me. xD **

**Enjoy this update. **

_Huh, where am I?_ Paris lurched to his senses immediately. The aroma of sizzling bacon wafted around the room, and he found himself salivating.

He attempted to open his eyes, to find his right hide had swollen shut. His left eye vision wasn't at its peak either – all he could make out were shapes and… a silhouette of a young woman.

Panic surged through him. Who was she? Most importantly, why was he here?

He tried to voice his questions but all that left his lips was a weak moan. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

"Who are you?" he croaked hoarsely. _At least I can see a bit better now_, he thought to himself, as color began dispersing into his sight.

The woman didn't bother to look back at the boy, and he feared that she was going to shrug his question off, until eventually she deadpanned, "Evanna." Carelessly she tossed her mop of lush blonde hair behind her shoulder.

Paris took one unsteady step forward. The wood panels creaked under his feet.

"Quiet!" she barked. She turned on her heels and glowered at him. Her glare was so cold and bitter he wanted to avert his eyes, but she had him hypnotized. He couldn't move a single muscle in his body. When she sensed his anxiety, she shot him a satisfied smirk, and turned back around again.

After a moment of silence, he repeated, "Who are you?"

"I told you," she sighed wearily. "Evanna. Lady of the Wild. Have you heard of me?"  
>"No," he replied. "Am I supposed to?"<br>Giggling, she took the pan off the gas stove and laid its contents out neatly on a plate. "Everyone knows me. Sit, I made you food." Her tone was commanding, but friendly to some extent.

He obeyed her and sat down in front of her. For the first time he got a proper glance at her face. His mouth fell agape at the marvel before him. She was, putting it simply, gorgeous. Everything about her was perfect – her deep brown eyes, her thick hair, her sly smile. Almost unnatural. Almost artificial. _Too bad she's a total bitch._

"You shouldn't go thinking things like that around me," she warned, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He dropped his fork that was piled with bacon. "You can read minds?"

She giggled again. "Maybe."

Naturally, he was intrigued. "What else can you do?"

She laughed, but stopped abruptly as her face etched with concern. Then her face seemed to take on a distant look. No matter how many times Paris called her name, she was still far away from reality.

_A total bitch AND insane. _

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO THINK!" she yelled, banging her fist on the table.

Paris raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, I'll try not use my brain around you."

"You don't use your brain anyway, you daft vampire," she muttered. He chose to ignore her rude remark as he bit into his bacon. Bliss. He savored the greasy taste, his hollow stomach demanding more.

"So… you read minds, huh?" he questioned, in an attempt to start a conversation. Fortunately, her (freaky) mood swings had long vanished, so she responded calmly and rationally.

"Yes. I do many things, as you will learn in the future."

_Things such as? _He knew she had received his telepathic message when a smile played on her lips.

"I like frogs," she mused, then paused. "I make frogs."

He smirked. _How fascinating. _

"I don't like your sarcasm," she scowled. His smirk grew wider.

"Eat," the lady urged. He didn't need to be told twice – his appetite was returning rapidly.

Evanna waited for him to finish stuffing his face. Then she answered the questions he had for her.

"Why am I here?"

"Because you – very stupidly – fell into a hunter's trap, intended for deer. It hit you on the head. You had a minor concussion. I gave you a potion – so you could go to sleep without risking falling into a coma. You should thank me, you know, not call me a bitch."

_Thank you, in that case. _

"My pleasure," she hissed.

Paris looked into her eyes, and managed to decipher something out of the emotions he found in them. _But why did you REALLY take me in?_

She sighed dramatically. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you? Fine." In an act of complete senselessness, in his opinion, she took a match, lit it, and set the table cloth on fire. Paris jumped back, startled – as the fire devoured the fabric, flickering in shades of red and orange, radiating its heat.

"Why'd you do that?" he yelped, still overcome with terror.

"Fire is harmless when it's still on the match." Her mind is obviously a thousand miles away. "Then… you drop it. And it harms other people. Did you know, you woke up last night, and drained your friend Natalie dry?"

He inhaled sharply, as a lump formed in his throat. "No I didn't," he protested feebly.

"Oh yes, you did!" she insisted. "She's dead. Good as dead. Yes, dead. Completely and utterly _dead._" He was irritated by her repeating the word, with the intent to unhinge him.

"What do you want?" he inquired.

She chuckled darkly, the fire reflecting off of her skin. "Don't you see, Paris? You're the fire. Your mentor is the match, that keeps you from going wild. I want you to be my assistant."

**Weeeeeellll yeeessssssss…. that was the chapter, hmmm? I hope you liked it, hmmmm. **

**^ That was a horrible Murlough impersonation. **

**REVIEW PLEASE! I'LL GIVE YOU A BOX OF CHOCOLATES IF YOU DO! **


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